The Things that Drive Us
by EleanorKate
Summary: The nurses deal with a shock as a crime is committed under their noses
1. Chapter 1

The docks were peculiarly quiet as Cynthia cycled away from Mellish Street, the late evening slowly closing around her as day began to wend its journey into night. As she cycled, she breathed in that eclectic mix of the salt and mud of the grim looking water as it gently swished against the dock walls. That lingering smell of the freshly caught fish seemed to hover at every turn even though the stalls were long gone. It seemed to track every yard of her journey, but it was the unmistakable depth of character that had kept her in Poplar for all of these almost five years.

From the contemplative quietude, as she turned the corner, all of a sudden, she heard voices and someone shouting, the hum of a swarm as chatter passed from man to boy, from boy to his mother and an uneasy clamour of a large crowd as it assaulted her ears. That must have been the reason why her journey had been so silent; that something that had attracted the gathering to the warehouse.

Cynthia slowed the revolutions of the wheels of her bicycle, having just a few moments before thought of the prospect of supper that she knew was waiting for her back at Nonnatus and wondering when she might just feel the first taste of hot tea touch her lips. She dismounted and decided to walk as two iridescent black Police cars, parked nose to nose, obstructed her path. As she examined the scene before her the chatter from the crowd was one of horror, looking over shoulders, hearing transient whispers of a body, of wounds, of_ murder_.

"Nurse! Nurse!" she heard from amongst the crowd seeing a Police Constable push aside two teenage boys gawking at the spectacle that was developing before them. The crowd parted temporarily to let the officer through; Cynthia seeing the door to a warehouse wide open and the flashes of torches from inside as the burr of rumour resumed.

Cynthia stopped quickly seeing the furrowed brow of the concerned young officer as he stopped before her.

"Nurse? Do you mind coming with me?" he asked, almost pleading with her; that difficult concoction of professionalism and shock at what he must have seen written all over his face. Cynthia had no hesitation.

"Yes Officer" she replied. "Of course. How can I help?"

As Cynthia was taken into the warehouse she saw torches flashing from room to room, just as she had seen outside. Three more police officers passed them with a respectful nod to the young nurse, still unsure herself as to where and what she was being guided to.

"You might not be able to help us, Nurse" the officer said. "She might be too far gone. We've called an ambulance, but it's taking an age" he said to her as then stepped over rotting planks and the flotsam and jetsam of the long abandoned warehouse. There was a thick layer of dirt at every turn and she continued carefully, losing the rumble of the crowd from outside as she was taken deeper and deeper into the series of rooms within the vast expanse.

"One of the warehousemen from next door found 'er when he saw the door had been forced" he continued. "She's in a bad way".

"Do you know what injuries she has?" Cynthia asked, her mind racing as to what she could feasibly do if the whispers outside were accurate.

"Not really Nurse" he replied. "She's jus' bleedin' everywhere".

They turned a corner to find two Police Officers – from the back she saw Peter; the other officer opposite him she recognised too - leaning over a woman on the floor. The area was dark, only lit by gas lamps and their hand held torches were of little use, abandoned in their desperate attempts to stem the tide of red that was scarring this woman's pale dress.

Cynthia saw Peter turn around and look up, seeing a wave of relief cross his face at assistance arriving and a familiar face to boot.

"Cynthia", he said, pausing deliberately realising he needed to refer to her properly. "Nurse Miller…it looks like she's had had belly sliced open and her arms are covered in knife wounds. We didn't really know what to do".

She knelt down beside him seeing that seemingly inadvertently the two officers were stemming the bleeding quite efficiently.

"You're doing exactly what you need to Constable. Both of you" she reassured seeing Peter nod quickly. She opened her bag and pulled out handfuls of swabs.

"Here, pack her abdomen with these". Cynthia had caught him one night reading a medical dictionary as he had waited for his wife, Freddie out cold on his knee and knew she did not perhaps have to explain what the word 'pack' meant.

"Has she said anything?" Cynthia asked, eyes flickering over the woman, searching for a pulse point on her neck.

He shook his head. "We've tried to keep her talking and that, but she only said her name".

"Which was?" she asked.

"Maggie", he replied, swopping hands, his shirt sleeves already soaked.

Cynthia leant down to the woman, close to her ear. She could see her chest rise and fall, counting the shallow respirations as she assessed her patient.

"Maggie? Can you hear me? I'm a nurse". The woman's leg moved, slumped to the floor from its half bent state. "Maggie?"

"She isn't responding" Cynthia said, almost to herself, as she leant back up one hand engaged taking the pulse as she surveyed the area around them. To her side she noticed a small but bloody lump of flesh.

"Is that important?" Peter asked seeing her study it quite intensely.

"I'm not sure" she said, unable to really see as it was so dark. "It looks like…..no…silly idea" Cynthia replied, although quite deliberately folding a swab around it so she could examine the piece properly in the light.

If it was what she thought it was, she would have to keep it; it could be evidence.


	2. Chapter 2

The smell hit Trixie square in the stomach the moment she stepped into 24 Saltwell Street.

"I'm sorry Nurse", her patient said immediately seeing the Midwife's reaction as they walked down the drab hallway, the darkness of the evening not helping the minimal light.

"It's the drains for what vey're worth. Keep askin' 'im to deal wiv 'em, but in one ear…" she said, gesturing at her husband who was seated in front of a roaring fire, cigarette in hand, newspaper laid on his knee as they walked past.

Trixie smiled at Angela Roberts. She liked her; a Mum to a family filled to the brim with six girls and now a Mum of young Charles Roberts, aged 8 and a half days and with such a flexible set of lungs on him that his mother was sure he could be heard three streets away.

"How is young Charlie?" Trixie asked, removing her coat, just about used to the conditions that Poplar could present its residents with, but the odour of drains was nothing new and to be truthful not much of a concern.

"As loud as evver!" she replied. "'is sisters were so quiet. I fink we got away with it with 'em" Mrs Roberts concluded with a laugh.

"'Er he is" she said, as they both walked into the back room to where the Moses basket lay, a stream of streetlight poking through the curtains. Before her the baby slept peacefully under a pale lemon blanket, unaware he was about to be rudely awoken by a midwife.

"How are the girls around him?" Trixie asked, opening up her bag ready to conduct her first examination on the young boy who had been delivered by Jenny not so long ago.

"Oh, vey love 'im" Angela replied, smiling proudly down at the boy, arms folded across her middle still demonstrating that it was only a few days ago that she had given birth. "Fussin' over 'im like little muvver 'ens".

"Speaking of which" Trixie joked seeing two delighted elder sisters arrive at the doorway. "Hello Jane, Hello Susan".

"'ello Nurse" the two girls chirruped as they leant on the door frame, having tumbled downstairs on hearing the front door go.

"How's Jim holding up?" Trixie asked, nodding her head towards the elder Mr Roberts in the sitting room, engrossed in his newspaper and having no intention of becoming caught up in the visit.

"Wettin' the baba's 'ed on a permanent basis, Nurse!" Angela replied. "Only cos 'e's finally got his boy after all these years".

Trixie smiled and turned to the girls by the door. "Are you two coming help me?" The girls shot across to her side, smiling widely.

"Now where shall we start?" Trixie asked as she peeled the blanket away from the sleeping boy.

"I fink e's lost a bit of weight Nurse" Angela said as the two girls stood either side of the basket.

Trixie nodded, lifting the sleeping boy. "He was 7 pounds and 3 ounces when he was born?" she asked, seeing the mother nod. "Its quite normal for them to lose a few ounces, but I will weigh him to put your mind at rest".

"Fank you Nurse" Angela replied, smiling, relieved. "I know I should be all used to this after the girls, but its 'is little lad you see and I nevver fought I'd 'ave a boy and I don't want nuffink to go wrong wiv 'im".

"That's quite understandable" Trixie said. "But he does look fighting fit to me".

Half a mile away, Peter followed Cynthia quietly into Nonnatus. Strictly speaking he was now off duty, mind wandering to a hot bath, a kiss from his wife and the boy snuggling close as he read him a bedtime story, but with the Inspector's voice ringing in his ears, he had volunteered to come to Nonnatus with the nurse and that bloody piece of flesh she had extracted from the floor.

He stood in the treatment room with her as she placed the content of the swab into a kidney dish, examining it under fresh light.

_"Now do come here, Mr Wobbly Legs! We don't want to have to ask Aunty Jenny to put more nasty stitches in that chin of yours do we?"_

Peter smiled as Cynthia caught his eye, both hearing Chummy's voice from away down the corridor. Their son had now gained mobility and was not afraid to engage with his new skill of running at any given opportunity that he could. Unfortunately, an attempt two days previously had involved Freddie and a battle with the parquet floor of the kitchen and Jenny neatly stitching Freddie's chin as his mother's heart shook with fright at the blood and the boy screaming.

Freddie appeared at the door of the treatment room.

"Is he allowed in here?" Peter asked, walking over to prevent his son entering into a world of glass, medicine, pills, chemicals and far too many interestingly curious hazards for a 19 month old.

"As long as he keeps his sticky fingers to himself!" Chummy replied, appearing behind her son, seeing Peter and then further into the room, Cynthia studying the kidney dish intently.

Peter picked Freddie up and he settled on his hip, a hand immediately grasping hold of his tunic thankfully nowhere near the blood that had seeped and dried into his shirt sleeves. He saw a new dressing on over the stitches.

"What are you doing here?" he asked his wife, surprised but extremely pleased to see them both as they walked back into the treatment room.

"Sister Julienne telephoned. There was a parcel delivered here for me, well for Young Sir, this afternoon so we walked down to collect it" she replied. She had the unopened cardboard box under her arm. "And she wanted to look at his stitches and redress them".

"Chummy?" Cynthia interrupted, distracting them from their conversation and Peter asking who the parcel was from. "Can you have a look at this and see what you think?" Chummy walked past her husband and son over to her friend.

"Placenta" Chummy immediately said. "Or chopped liver. They tend to look the same".

"Placenta" Cynthia repeated, nodded gravely. "I think it is too".

"Why is it here?" the fellow midwife asked, curious as to why this small piece of flesh was suddenly of such interest.

"We were asked to attend..." Peter started.

"Police talk" Chummy gently scolded smiling at him, knowing that he seemed to adopt a different persona when in uniform.

"There was a girl in the old Jackson's Warehouse bleeding all over the shop" he replied bluntly and directly, seeing his son yawn out of the corner of his eye. "Cynthia found that on the floor by her".

"So this girl has given birth in the warehouse?" Chummy asked, thinking it was the logical conclusion.

"No" Peter replied, thinking quickly easily connecting the injuries he had witnessed and Cynthia's discovery. "Or at least not out of choice".

"She had a ragged incision across her abdomen and cuts on her arms. She is still alive though" Cynthia said, switching off the light that she had used to gain a better view.

"And if she was delivered in there; there was no baby. The lads searched the place from floor to ceiling and nothing" Peter concluded having heard the fruitless examination go on around him.

"Oh gosh!" Chummy replied, immediately looking to her son who's eyes were now wandering around the bright colours and sparkling glass. Given half the chance he would be right in there, but suddenly she just needed to wrest him from Peter's arms and hold him. "So that poor baby could be anywhere?"

Peter nodded. "The Inspector wants me to speak to Sister Julienne tomorrow. Well," he paused, "all of you. To see if you can help".

"Everyone is in," Chummy responded, thinking ahead. "How about now instead?"

He nodded, knowing it was perhaps better sooner rather than later, particularly as these midwives traversed the streets of Poplar whether it was day or night and the sooner this child was found, everybody's mind would be at rest.


	3. Chapter 3

Everybody gathered in the dining room; all having heard whispers and gossip already that evening that had spread quickly through the streets on their calls. They all listened intently, horrified, as Peter described the events that had led him to stand in front of them. Cynthia too had told them what little she knew but it was still of such an impact that each one sat stock still and shocked. The only positive was at least the girl was still alive and perhaps could help in finding the perpetrator.

"We need to you keep a look out" Peter said, standing to attention at the head of the dining table; Sister Julienne to his right. "Anything odd, strange, something that just doesn't sit right. You are all in the best position to have contact with the public every day. New people coming to clinic with new borns who have never been there before that type of thing; new residents to the area".

"I expect you all to be vigilant" Sister Julienne continued, taking up the thread. "Each one of you is blessed with the gift of intuition and even if you have the slightest suspicion, or somebody tells you of their suspicions, or you overhear a conversation, even speculation, tell me or the Police. If you find someone who does not want to speak to the Police directly, speak to Nurse Noakes who I am sure will pass on your worries".

She saw Chummy nod silently.

"You know that I do not hold for the kind of gossip we cannot help but overhear in the clinics" she continued, "but one of those stories might lead the Police to whoever carried out this wicked act. It might also lead to finding the little one".

Sister Julienne paused to contemplate the faces in front of her who had absorbed every word.

"I will attend some of the clinics myself as supernumerary to you all and we must be conscientious with every mother and father and every call we make" she concluded. "Do you have anything else you need to add Constable?"

"No, thank you Sister" Peter replied.

Sister Julienne nodded as she cross her hands across her stomach.

"Now I believe we all have jobs to do and homes to go to?" the Sister continued catching the eye of everybody in the room, nobody sure what to say other than 'Yes Sister' before they all filed away.

The dining room was now quiet, leaving Chummy, young Fred, Peter and Sister Julienne in the room. Chummy smiled as Sister Julienne noted the small boy on her knee, who had been oddly quiet throughout the whole discussion, as she gently stood up to go home. A gentle hand rested on the back of the boy's head.

"I do hope Nurse Noakes that you did not mind me volunteering you as a go between?" Sister Julienne asked, smiling as Freddie grinned at her. "You do know that there are some residents of Poplar who do not choose the Police as their first port of call".

Peter, standing beside his wife, did not take it as a slight as he knew how true it was.

"No Sister" she replied. "It's perfectly understandable and entirely alright". She had heard enough from her husband about the lack of trust; the deep wariness of the uniform that they all felt every single day from the people they were intended to protect.

"Excellent" the Sister concluded. "Now before you go, I must have a moment with young Freddie for a special hug to make up for me having to look at those despicable stitches".

Chummy smiled as the boy was handed over. The four walked from the dining room to the door and with Freddie's enthusiastic waving; Sister Julienne gently closed the door to Nonnatus.

Later that night, Chummy was sleeping soundly beside her husband, breathing gently. At the end of the bed, their son slept soundly too, one hand with a desperately tight grip on the teddy bear Sister Evangelina had furnished him with on his first birthday months ago. Peter had been awake for hours now, although eyes closed though to make his wife believe he was asleep too. The last thing he wanted was for her to be sitting up worrying with him or about him for that matter.

He tried to concentrate on her breathing, trying to hypnotise himself into sleep, inflating and deflating his lungs in perfect rhythm praying for relaxation and the dimming of the room as his eyes closed.

The clock ticking on her bedside table sounded like all the bells of All Saints Church in the silence of their bedroom as the image of the girl sat in his subconscious. Just this once he prayed the baby would wake up and be hungry or just in need of some attention so it would divert the thoughts that were spinning through his head. Baby however was not playing ball and slept deeply.

As soon as the telephone rang he sprang from bed and ran downstairs. At this time of night it would only be either the station or Nonnatus and one way or another it would be bad news.

"Who was it?" Chummy asked quietly as he re-entered their bedroom, the telephone having woken her and the baby up, the latter of whom was now playing with the ribbon on his mother's blue nightdress.

"The station", he said walking across to her dressing table stool, over which lay a freshly ironed pair of black trousers. "They want me in".

"Have they found something?" Chummy asked eagerly, perhaps thinking and hoping that poor baby had been found.

"Another girl" Peter croaked as he quickly took off his pyjama top; throat having dried immediately as the Inspector advised him of the night's occurrences and the discovery by a docker in one of the many alleyways that ran up and down Poplar's streets.

"Another girl?" Chummy replied, a chill rapidly running through her bones, tightening her grip on her son who was thankfully oblivious to the words that were falling from his parents lips.

"Have I got another shirt?" Peter asked, looking around himself, firmly forgetting any prospect of the day off he was due tomorrow. Well, today, in fact.

"In the wardrobe" she replied quickly. "The one from the other day will have to be thrown out. Three washes and one can't get the blood out properly".

Peter nodded. "I'll get another one from supply" he replied, having seen her attempts at scrubbing it clean and her eventual resolution that it would never pass inspection.

Chummy suddenly realised she had become distracted. "Was she alive?"

"No, not this time" he replied solemnly opening the wardrobe door. "They've called the whole shift in to search".

"So she was pregnant?" she asked, deducing the reasons for the search, hoping desperately he was going to say 'no'.

Peter just nodded soberly; his expression not changing. "Go back to sleep" he said, taking out a shirt. "I don't know what time I might be back".

She accepted that as inevitable, seeing him almost throw his uniform on; even though she knew there was no way on earth that she would sleep now. She felt her son rest his head on her chest as he grew bored with the blue ribbon he had managed to largely undo and tie around his hands.

"Please be careful", she pleaded.

"I will" he replied, leaning down to kiss them both goodbye. "Do you want me to put him back to bed?"

Chummy shook her head. "No, I'll do it". Peter nodded realising that she just needed to hold the boy close. He needed to as well, but a second kiss had to suffice.

The resultant 'Bye Bye Daddy' from Freddie, albeit prompted by his mother, rang in his ears all night has he trudged the cold streets on what transpired to be a fruitless search.

Away at Nonnatus, the subject was of some gossip too. Jenny, having been on call, and seeing before her the streets suddenly flood from every angle with Police had returned with news having run into Peter's best man.

"I'm going to feel suspicious of every single one of them now" Trixie said, on hearing of a second body from her friend. "Wondering if they did it".

"Nobody's saying of our mother's did anything" Jenny scolded.

"But _two_ women Jen - _and_ two babies?" Trixie emphasised, both parties knowing too that the Police had not been able to identify either one yet.

"I think Sister is right though" Jenny said. "We do hear some things here, but if it gives the Police a clue to finding whoever this is… and finding that baby".

"Babies" Trixie corrected, making the same assumption that the Police had already that they were now searching for two lost children.

"And if they're still alive" Trixie pointed out, never the one to hold back when it came to an opinion.

"Trixie, don't! Whoever did it must have done it for a reason. Misery. Need" Jenny replied, trying desperately herself to think of a conclusion as to why anybody would go to those lengths.

"Need is all well and good" Trixie whispered through gritted teeth, "but you don't go around slicing people apart for it! Twice!"

"I hope I did not hear what I thought I heard Nurse Franklin, Nurse Lee" Sister Julienne said as she stumbled upon the conversation walking with quiet feet into the kitchen; not heard by either nurse.

"Sorry Sister" Trixie replied, skin reddening at being caught chattering away about this new development and speculating.

"I should hope so Nurse. We are not here to spread or create gossip ourselves. Remember that", Sister Julienne responded.

"Yes Sister" Trixie replied meekly as Jenny too quietened and the pair engaged themselves in the small snack they had prepared.

"Now," Sister Julienne said, sitting down beside them. "Am I correct in thinking that there has been a second occurrence?"


	4. Chapter 4

A second night of searching again had rendered nothing but idle tittle tattle and little substantive to report on the background of what seemed to be time ticking away until there was other one. It felt almost inevitable and each and every officer was on their guard, on duty or otherwise, for that one clue.

Peter was thankfully, for him, now taking up his previously postponed day off and after a lie in with the baby, an inordinately long telephone call with his aunt that morning and an even longer walk in the park with Freddie that afternoon, it was now approaching five o'clock and time to pick up his wife from work. Even in the park his eyes were everywhere - at each mother, at each perambulator - suddenly suspicious of every movement and motive before him. Freddie's delight at the ducks and the stale bread they had brought with them to feed them distracted him as he listened to his son's endless chatter and seemingly boundless energy. Hopefully, the fresh air would wipe them both straight out tonight and stop his brain from thinking.

As he took up a seat at the Nonnatus kitchen table, a warm and welcome cup of coffee was passed into his hands by Sister Evangelina, who then installed Freddie on her hip. Even as a newborn had never complained of being hiked around by the Sisters as they went about their duties and as a toddler seemed far too interested in the tea towels the Sister was now folding. Six inches closer and Peter was sure that Fred would end up swiftly wearing one of the striped cloths on his head.

"New shoes young Frederick?" Sister asked, seeing the navy blue buckled Clark's adorning the boy's feet that his father had polished just this morning before they took their walk.

"From Camilla's old guardian. They were that parcel the other day and that cardigan" Peter replied, taking a mouthful of the hot drink.

"And very smart they look too don't they?" she commented as the boy bounced on her hip in absolute agreement, new shoes thoroughly tested in his refusal to sit in the pram to do anything but walk to the park, around the park and all the way to Nonnatus.

Usually Peter did not drink coffee, but these last few days had been made up of trudging the streets to a thousand eyes upon the collective that was the Poplar Police force and his bones were aching with tiredness. His hands tightened around the mug as the kettle was put on again.

"Any news from the Hospital?" the Sister asked, just as desperate as each other Nurse and Nun under this roof to find out what was happening. Thankfully, there had been no more happenings last night, or at least no reports of one and there was little to be communicated. Whispers that they had all heard had been duly reported as Sister Julienne requested, but there was nothing to say really at all that the Police did not already know.

"No Sister" Peter replied, shaking his head. "She's still alive though, but the doctors won't let anyone talk to her quite yet".

"And she was expecting? Certainly?" the Sister asked, perhaps hoping that this was not as horrific as first guessed.

"The doctors think she was nearly due. Days away they said", he replied reporting the information that they had received in the briefing last night.

"Lord help us! Snatching a baby from its mother's womb!" Sister Evangelina shook her heard in consternation, shifting Freddie. "What is this world coming to?"

Peter had no answer to the question, which was rhetorical in any event. Nobody could even begin to understand why.

"Do you have any idea when they will let you speak to her?" the Sister asked, the 'you' being the Police in general.

"When she wakes up" he replied, before stopping. "Well if she wakes up". The Sister nodded. "The Inspector suggested that Nurse Miller comes with us when we speak to her. The girl may recognise her and it might help to get her to talk".

"That is a good idea", the Sister agreed. "I think I saw her last in the treatment room if you want to speak to her. You know the way. Frederick can help me in the garden while you talk".

"Thank you Sister"

"And you can take this to your wife". He was passed a cup of tea with two biscuits propped against the china.

Peter walked along the corridor and first found his wife poring over records in the dining room. He cleared his throat as he leant against the door frame, learning now that sneaking up behind her making her jump either resulted in her spilling something all over herself or a thump in the stomach for him, even though the latter was done with utmost affection and more often than not accidentally.

"Where's the baby?" she asked immediately seeing his arms redundant apart from the cups in either hand.

"Gardening" he replied, straight-faced, starting to walk over to her and the spare seat beside her.

"Oh" she replied, raising her eyebrows, certainly not expecting that answer.

"Are you nearly ready to go home?" he asked, placing her cup and biscuits safely down.

"Almost. Finish your coffee though" she replied, smiling, noting the half drunk cup he had brought with him too.

"I spoke to Aunty May before" he said as he settled, recalling the conversation that morning, taking a sip of his drink. "They want us to go and visit them. Well," he paused, "want Freddie to go and visit them. We're just invited as a consequence".

Chummy smiled. "When?" she asked, heart jumping, looking forward to a few days in the countryside with no telephones, no uniforms, no shifts, fresh air and if she was lucky a lie-in or two.

"Just whenever we can sort it out" Peter replied. "His diary has already been filled!"

Chummy smiled again as he reached across to kiss her, distracting her.

"Peter! Don't" she mumbled and he felt a hand in his chest pushing him slightly away.

"Why?"

Chummy pointed to the large painting of Christ on the cross that stood over the fireplace, feeling that familiar guilt of a God-fearing woman and pleasures of the flesh. She had not seen a biscuit disappear from her saucer.

"I don't recall you being Nun" he replied, sounding quite indignant about it. He still had not know that the Veil had been a contemplation of hers some long time ago and she hoped that he would never find out.

The words 'Thank the Lord' came out of her mouth before she realised her slip and clamped her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. Thankfully he laughed before out of the corner of his eye he saw Cynthia walking past.

"Just the person I need to see" he said, kissing his wife quickly before she looked down, sure that there had been two biscuits there a minute ago. Her brain finally caught up and she rolled her eyes and quickly spirited away the remainder before her husband came back. She would have to ask later why he wanted her colleague although she already had more than half an idea if the past few days were anything to go by.

It was still there, hovering. That smell of the drains as once again Trixie stepped into 24 Saltwell Street.

"Still having problems then Angela?" Trixie asked as again they traversed the hallway. This time it was her husband's turn to chip in.

"She's like a broken record, Nurse" he replied as he walked from the kitchen, a sandwich of some sorts in his hand. "'ow 'am I meant to get meself down ver wiv vis back o' mine?"

"An' so's he" his wife replied, not entirely in jest as her husband took up his seat again in the front room. "'eard promise after promise to get his bruvver in to clear 'em up cos of 'is ruddy back and does 'e arrive? No!" The last word was heralded with an exasperated flail of the arms.

Trixie smiled. "I don't hear young Charlie either" she said.

"Sorry, Nurse" Angela replied. "Muvver's took 'im for a walk. Ver's no phone to let you lot know an' I fought she'd be back be now". She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece, a deeply apologetic look on her face at the missing patient.

"Never mind", Trixie replied, putting her bag down on a chair. "I can examine you and if young Charlie appears I can move onto him. If not, there's always next time or clinic".

"Fanks Nurse" Angela replied. "We've had a terrible day an' 'e'd only jus' gone off when she took 'im".

"That's quite alright" Trixie responded. That day she left without having seen him, but none too concerned, as tomorrow was another day and there would be plenty of other opportunities.


	5. Chapter 5

"Sir?" the officer said, head peeking out of the curtained hospital room. "Sir?"

From several feet away his senior officer walked towards him. "Yes, Fletcher?"

The officer stood up straight as befitting the respect he owed for rank. "I think she's started to wake up Sir". The Sergeant nodded and looked behind himself at the doctor he had been talking to just seconds earlier who had also heard the young officer's missive.

Usurped from the room by the team of doctors and nurses, the officers stood impatiently for what must have been over half an hour, knowing their previous instruction that they would require permission urgently to question the patient. They looked up simultaneously as the door opened.

"She said if she speaks to anyone it will be the nurse that was with the policemen the other night" the Doctor said as he came out of the room, imparting the quiet but blunt message that he was to give after he had broached the issue with the patient. The Doctor was not convinced that his patient was fit or well enough, showing worrying signs of infection in the wound, but the fact that a nurse might have a gentler hand comforted him.

"Which nurse?" the Sergeant replied, knowing of no nurse in his immediate knowledge.

"She must mean the one that was with Williams and Noakes, Sir" the Constable to his side whispered. "She was with them after the girl was found. The Inspector suggested she might be able to help and Noakes said he was going to speak to her to see if she could be with us when we talked to her. I think she's a Nonnatun. Nurse Miller or Milner I think she's called" he concluded.

"Well then, I suggest then you get yourself over there right now and fetch Nurse Miller or Milner, Fletcher. Tell Dawson to come in and take your place here".

"Yes Sir". One way or another, the Sergeant was not going to wait.

Cynthia was rudely awoken from her bed, her shoulder shaken insistently by Jenny who had received the Police Officer downstairs and she had dressed quickly, hurrying into her uniform and into the back of the Police car. She had no time to think about the whys and wherefores of this journey and had no thoughts of perhaps Jenny to accompany her as she wondered how she could practically help. Peter might already have asked her and she had readily agreed to see if she could assist, but the awakening in the middle of the night for that purpose set her nerves on edge and it was now altogether too real. The events of the last few days were nothing to be trifled with and she did question for more than a minute or two what would happened if she said or did something wrong.

Immediately on Cynthia's entrance to the sterile hospital room and her quiet greeting, the girl refused to speak, staring at the officers who stood at the foot of the bed.

"Sergeant, forgive me" Cynthia started. "Perhaps Maggie would like to speak privately?"

She saw the officer bristle and had been prepared to stand to make her point. "I had been hoping, _Nurse_, that we may conduct a formal interview".

"I think _Sergeant_" Cynthia replied, her voice firm but fair, "that Maggie may still be far too unwell to have any kind of formal discussion. Maggie?"

"The nurse only", came the tired voice.

"Very well" the Sergeant replied, nodding to the other officer that stood by his side. "But we will be stationed outside".

Gently Cynthia closed the door, turned and smiled, hoping she could gain the girl's confidence quickly before she was told to leave for fear of tiring the patient even more. She looked grey, washed out and the cannula in her hand still fed her the blood she had lost.

"I'm not Maggie" where the first words out of her mouth the moment Cynthia sat down. "Me name's Amy. Maggie's me sister". Her voice was low but defiant.

"Amy" Cynthia repeated. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

Cynthia could feel the sudden obstructiveness seep from her skin, head turning slightly away. She could not guess at how old the girl was; that haunted exhaustion probably adding more years that Cynthia would wish to consider. She thought she had picked up a slight Lancastrian accent.

"Amy? The Police do want to help to find out what happened to you. And your baby" she added, wondering whether, but refraining from telling her quite yet of the second girl as it was perhaps not quite her place to inquire.

"They'll nick me", the girl replied, clearly fearful of something and Cynthia knew she had gone about her questions in the wrong way.

"What for?" Cynthia continued though.

The girl looked at her, eyes heavy. "What do you think?"

A thousand reasons ran through Cynthia's head. "I don't know Amy; that's why we are all here to help. Whatever you have or have not done, the Police want to find out who did this to you".

Cynthia heard a huff in response. "Them lot never helped us before, why should they now?"

"Because you have been hurt and surely you must want to know where your baby is?" Cynthia wondered for a moment whether she was pushing the situation too hard; asking questions that were perhaps not her place to ask.

"Not really. Be an anchor around me neck for the rest of me living days. Ma always said us kids were the devil and she don't know why she had us". Amy turned away completely now, wincing in pain and Cynthia realised she was getting nowhere despite the earlier willingness that she should be the conduit to the Police. She stood up, spying a piece of paper and a pencil left by the Police that was on the small beside table. Quickly Cynthia wrote down her name and the telephone number for Nonnatus.

"If you want to talk to me more" she said pressing the paper into the hand laid on the bed, immediately noticing the filthy nails and cracked skin of her knuckles.

Cynthia left quietly conveying what little she could to the officers outside before she nearly fell asleep again in the back of the Police car that took her carefully back to Nonnatus. She took herself immediately to bed.

Normally you never traversed the back alleys of the streets of Poplar in the dead of night, but there was something in the air tonight. As he stood at the gate to the back of one of the houses of Saltwell Street, Peter breathed in and almost gagged at the assault on his nostrils.

"Why they don't sort out these damn drains!" his fellow Constable said as they stood attracted – if you could use that word – by the horrific smell as they crossed into the narrow passage. "Should get the Inspector to have words with the Council!"

Peter laughed quickly. "And how helpful will that be?" he asked, seeing his partner also raise a smile at the absolute irony of his comment.

"Have to say though; someone must've had a rough stomach tonight. It's worse than ever!" Peter concluded, trying the back gate of where they believed the odour was coming from. The handle fell away in his palm and the door opened six inches.

"Does that mean I've got to arrest you for breaking and entering now?" Peter's colleague asked, joking as he pushed the wooden door in front of him, half wondering if the rotting wood might collapse further. Their hands shot to their mouths immediately as they took barely two or three steps into the nondescript yard, the floor greasy with rain and lit only by the torches they were flickering around it.

"Jesus!" Peter heard, muffled, from somewhere in front of him. He'd only smelt that once or twice before and that was when they had dragged that...

A cold sweat must have washed over both of them at the same time as silence persisted, suddenly not needing to say a word to each other. Forgetting the smell but listening to their own experience and intuition, the two officers immediately knew what they may just find and the source was obvious. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, careful to preserve the site, Peter lifted the drain cover as his other hand clamped firmly over his mouth as the smell almost made his eyes water.

What greeted both officers as the scene was revealed before them in the small drain, they would never forget for the rest of their natural days.


	6. Chapter 6

"Angela Roberts?!" Trixie exclaimed altogether too loudly as she gently laid a towel on the weighing machine preparing for clinic. A look of confusion was clear on her face.

"Decomposing. In her own back yard so I hear", Shelagh responded as she quietly read over the list for the clinic that late afternoon as they stood in the quiet community hall undertaking the last few tasks that were required of them.

"That's impossible" Trixie replied, resting on her hands. "Sister Julienne told me she passed Angela in the street yesterday morning and Charlie was fine!"

"The body wasn't Charlie Roberts" Shelagh clarified. "Sister Evangelina said the Police cleared the house and saw him. They think it's a baby that was taken from one of those poor girls. It was another little boy though".

"Oh" Trixie said, fear suddenly washing over her, hands gripping the tray of the weighing machine. "The smell in the yard. Oh no! When I went there these last two visits the drains were appalling. Even worse the second time. It must have been …" Guilt immediately infested itself inside her, wondering if she had only asked just that once more, what could she have prevented?

"There was nothing you could have done Trixie" Shelagh tried to reassure. "From what I hear the baby had been dead for much more than a day or so".

"Have the Police spoken to the family? Angela must be terrified!" Trixie said, fond of her patient and knowing how much she adored her children.

"Not yet as far as I know. Those yards at the back of those terraces aren't exactly kept securely as we all well know. I heard Jenny say that Chummy said that Peter said the latch just fell off in his hand. Anybody could have got in, day or night, and the Roberts' not notice and I do suppose you could get used to those terrible drains if you lived with them day and night".

"How awful it is though", Shelagh continued. "Patrick said it might be impossible to tell how he died or even when".

Trixie was about to respond when the clock struck three and with a sigh, she went to open the hall doors to let in the masses.

At Nonnatus, Sister Julienne was about to walk from her office when the telephone rang behind her. Only a select few knew her office number and when that telephone rang, it tended to be of utmost importance. She sighed, weighing up turning around and unloading the wares from her arms, but handily saw one of her nurses a few steps away from her.

"Nurse Noakes, could you answer that for me?" she asked, Chummy seeing the Sister's arms full with the charity box that she had been sorting out.

'Wrong place, wrong time, as bally ever' Chummy mused. "Of course Sister" she replied, hopping up the three steps to the office where she picked up the receiver.

"Nonnatus House, Midwife speaking"

There was silence for a moment although she could hear somebody breathing.

"Hello? Anybody there?" she asked.

"Sorry Camilla" came an extremely familiar voice. "You just surprised me".

"We're visiting remember?" she responded to her husband, smiling to herself. "To ask Sister Julienne if she could swop me from Friday to Thursday so we can leave for Kent on Thursday night instead?". Whilst he had not forgotten their trip to see his Aunt and Uncle it had been firmly set to the back of his mind.

"Yes of course" he replied. "You did tell me". She could hear something in his voice.

"Whatever's wrong? You do sound terrible". Her mind had been wandering to him all day, particularly as Freddie was in one of his less than co-operative moods; wanting to nap flat out on his Daddy's chest more than play downstairs with his Mummy. Chummy did not really like leaving the baby with Peter when he was sleeping away a night shift, even though she was in the house herself, as the intermittent nature of her son's naps during the day might just disturb him too much. Peter had, however, insisted he stayed and it had concerned her, particularly bearing in mind the night that he had had.

"What's happened?" she asked.

"My shifts been changed. I just telephoned the house to say I was going up to Nonnatus and then coming home, but you weren't there. You did tell me you were going to speak to Sister Julienne", he repeated.

Chummy knew that was not the extent of it. "And?"

"As soon as I got in, Bob and I were called into the mortuary too to see the body of the boy. The Pathologist said had no idea how he died". Chummy frowned. "And the girl in the warehouse died about an hour ago from an infection". He heard his wife's sharp intake of breath at this sudden influx of information.

"What did you need to come here for?" she asked, not quite knowing what to say.

"We needed to speak to you all again even without these developments. Can you put Sister Julienne or Sister Evangelina on?"

An hour later, four officers stood in the parlour shoulder to shoulder being inspected by Sister Evangelina. Opposite them stood each Nurse and Nun, Fred the Elder and Fred the Younger.

"Constables Williams, Baxter, Porter and the one you all know on the end that we can't seem to shake from our company", Sister Evangelina announced, nodding to Peter who stood at the end of the line, "will be taking up residence with us for the next few days. Sister Julienne has allowed access to our records and they will be meticulously inspecting each one. I would expect you all to be free with your help should it be required".

There were mutters of 'of course' and 'Yes Sister'.

"Constable Baxter?" Sister Evangelina said, stepping aside.

"Thank you Sister" he replied, standing away from the other three officers. "Now, some of the information I am about to give you is strictly confidential and must not leave these walls. Unfortunately, before we could speak to her properly, I am afraid that the girl that was found in the old Jackson's warehouse died this afternoon".

Cynthia breathed in quickly and felt Jenny's arm arrive around her shoulder immediately.

"Thanks to Nurse Miller" he continued, not knowing which one was in fact Nurse Miller, "we may have at least an indication of her name and the doctors have provided us with their best estimates as to her age. We do intend to scour each set of records but it would assist us greatly if we could have one volunteer who would provide us with the records of all mothers who have delivered in the last 4 to 6 weeks first and more importantly any mothers with the name Amy, Maggie or Margaret and that they be ready for us first thing tomorrow morning when we will begin".

"I will" Cynthia offered. She could think of several already.

"Thank you. Nurse?" he asked.

"Miller", she replied with a sad smile at the news that had been delivered.

"Ah the elusive and helpful Nurse Miller. Thank you. We intend to follow through each mother at the moment. See if they are to deliver, when, whether there have been any losses, serial non-attenders at appointments. There are officers also stationed the Hospital who are carrying out the same task".

"Do any of you have any questions before we proceed?" he asked to silence.

"Excellent" he carried on. "Sister do you have two rooms where we could 'take up residence' tomorrow?"

"Yes" she replied. "If you would care to come with me?"

As soon as the officers retreated, Jenny, Cynthia and Trixie all took themselves upstairs and sat in the small box room where Cynthia had been stationed. Chummy and Freddie waited downstairs for husband and father alike.

"It must be so frightening to think of something like that under your nose" Trixie started, legs tucked under her as they sat by the freshly laid fire. "Do you think we should visit Angela?"

"The Police have moved them out. I heard David saying it before", Jenny said, making herself comfortable.

"David?!" Trixie teased, breaking out of her melancholy for a moment.

"Constable Porter" Jenny replied, feeling a redness creep over her skin. "He asked me find some spare writing paper for them and I heard him and… _Constable Williams_…talking when I left the room. They didn't say where".

"That's such a shame. I might ask" Trixie said. "To have that in your own back yard. It positively gives me the shivers!" Her companions could only agree.

A pair of hands gently rested on her hips but it was enough to make her jump. Peter shot to one side to avoid the elbow that was certainly heading in his direction as she straightened up. He could see one of Fred's toys in his wife's hand, clearly retrieved from the floor.

"Haven't you learned your lesson yet?" she asked, trying to keep lightness in her voice.

"I am hoping that one day I will do that and you'll not jump because you know its me"

"I will always know it was you", she replied, quickly kissing him for fear of interruption by either one of his or her colleagues. "Are you ready to go?"

He nodded, glad there was no night shift tonight and longing to close the door of the house behind all three of them to say goodbye to this day.


	7. Chapter 7

The mountain of paper was increasing as each minute passed. The four officers had spent these last two days from dawn until dusk poring over documents, delivery records, clinic observations and letters, discovering all kinds of things about childbirth that they simply did not wish to know.

Fuelled with tea, biscuits, sandwiches and help that had been willingly offered, the officers believed that they had discounted all of the Maggie's and Margaret's and set aside the Amy's – albeit that there were only four of them – for consideration when they would sit again with Sister Julienne that afternoon to discuss the cases.

There was a knock on the door and Trixie stood. Peter smiled up at her and she took it as her signal that they could be interrupted.

"I'm sorry to disturb you but I was wondering if you could let me know where Angela Roberts has been moved to?" she asked, standing at the side of the table which was laden with scribbled notes.

"I am afraid I can't Nurse Franklin" Peter replied, being formal as he had to. "We don't know ourselves". It was truthful answer as he didn't and the other three parties around the table agreed.

"Could you find out for me?" she asked, wishing with a sneaking hope that he might try to find out as a favour.

"I'm sorry, Nurse", he replied. "We aren't likely to be allowed to divulge that information without her express consent". Peter saw Trixie purse her lips and he was waiting for the retort. It never came.

Trixie's interest in Angela Roberts agitated him slightly though. The whole Roberts household had agitated him somewhat too.

He knew that other officers had been at her new lodgings yesterday, although he genuinely did not know where they were, and she had professed her shock at the find, but it still hung in his mind that she or her husband, or even the older children, had not noticed the appalling smell. The drains could be bad, but not _that_ bad.

He saw the nurse depart with a defeated look on her face and the door close quietly behind her.

An hour later, taking a welcome walk around the corridors to stretch his legs, Peter saw Sister Julienne walking towards him.

"I do hope we are being hospitable, Constable". She said as she smiled at him. He had been resident at Nonnatus not so long ago himself and they all had this ease of familiarity around him, but in his official capacity he was a guest and ought to be treated as so.

"Yes, thank you, Sister. Everyone is being all the assistance they can be". They were about to depart in separate directions when a thought struck him. It was definitely a case of now or never.

"Sister?" he asked.

"Yes?" she replied, seeing him turn, hands clasped behind his back. "Could you find me Angela Roberts records? In confidence from everybody".

"Of course" the Sister replied, curiosity peaking. The fact that he had asked that he alone saw the notes caused her not to ask any more questions.

"And if I might look at them in your office with you?" he asked, seeing her consider his question. "I may need you to answer a question or two for me".

"Come with me" she replied. "I can place my hands on them now".

Half an hour later, the door bell to Nonnatus rang and Sister Evangelina answered it to the Inspector and once again, the line of officers stood in the parlour.

"We will need to speak to you both" Constable Williams advised the two Midwives, Nurses Lee and Franklin, who stood glued to each other's sides. "And I understand that Sister Julienne has asked Nurse Noakes to attend as soon as she can".

"Would you care to speak in any particular order, Constable?" Sister Julienne asked, already knowing from her discussions with Peter why there was this sudden change of mood and one she could not express to either nurse at this stage.

"I think Sister, we will start with Nurse Franklin, then Nurse Noakes and then Nurse Lee", Constable Williams confirmed.

"Well Nurse Franklin and Nurse Lee as you can see are here. I am sure I can attend to young Freddie whilst you speak to his mother". She nodded to Peter who returned her gesture with a small smile, knowing she had already telephoned his wife.

"Thank you, Sister" Constable Williams replied. "Now Nurse Franklin, would you care to follow us?"

Trixie sat opposite Peter and Constable Porter. Constable Williams was seated to the other side, taking notes. She had seen Constable Baxter leave Nonnatus some ten minutes earlier with the Inspector on what seemed to be important hurried business. The sudden change in stance of mere consideration of medical records to questioning had altered the feel of the air and both she and Jenny felt that something was happening. Maybe a breakthrough.

"Nurse" Peter started. "Can you, just for the sake of the record, confirm your full name, date of birth and when you first began working at Nonnatus House?"

"Beatrix Franklin. I was born on 11 November 1931 and I began working at Nonnatus on 4 August 1953" she replied, hands clasped on her lap, back straight and demeanour slight edgy at what might be coming.

"I need to ask you about Angela Roberts. You delivered two of the Roberts' children?" he asked.

"Yes" Trixie replied, disconcerted, before the inevitable question flew from her mouth. "Why are you asking about the Roberts'?"

"Please bear with us Nurse" Peter replied, his voice stern and detached. She had never heard that tone on him before and it commuted her into compliance with his questions.

"You delivered two of her children?" he repeated.

"Yes. Sarah in 1954. She was my first birth on my own on night call and then Annette on New Years Day 1957. She had two in one year. New Years Day 1957 and another that December".

"Yes, we believe another Midwife delivered that child", Peter continued, having seen the initials 'CN' in the notes he had reviewed not so long ago.

"Yes Constable I think so", Trixie responded, remembering that horrific night with the snow and ice that marred their calls.

"What do you make of Mrs Roberts?" he asked.

"Quiet" Trixie replied. "Adores her children; gentle".

"And her relationship with her husband?"

"No worse or better than most of the marriages around here" she replied, having borne witness to the ratta tat tat between them, her despair at his lack of, well, _anything_, but the generally happy household that between them they had created with not very much to their name at all.

"Now you have seen Mrs Roberts and the baby twice since he was born?" Peter asked, quite deliberately getting his question wrong.

"Once" Trixie corrected. "The second time I was due to see him he was out with his grandmother, but Sister Julienne saw him after I did".

"Saw or examined?" Peter asked, having not seen any reference to Sister Julienne at all in what he had read.

Trixie thought for a moment. "Saw" she replied. "And only from a distance".

"So apart from when Nurse Lee delivered him, he has only had one first hand examination?" he queried.

"Yes".

"Did you notice anything unusual about Charles Roberts when you did examine him?"

Peter did not want to have to feed her the answer to his question, lead her into it as it would never be admissible as evidence in Court, but it was one that needed answering.

"No", Trixie replied, desperately searching her mind. She shook her head.

"No, sorry Constable. Nothing at all".


	8. Chapter 8

Chummy stepped into the dining room. Her journey had been delayed by a young boy needing putting down for his nap on a makeshift bed on the floor of Sister Julienne's office where he could be kept an eye on, but she had arrived as quickly as she could, quite alarmed by the Sister's telephone call and the urgent need for her to return to work.

She saw her husband swop places with Constable Porter. She understood immediately, and whilst she did not know any better, she assumed it was probably not ethical or even legal to interview one's own wife.

"Nurse" David Porter, started as they all settled. "Can you, just for the sake of the record, confirm your full name, date of birth and when you first began working here?"

"Camilla Frances Elizabeth Noakes. Mrs. I was born on 8 April 1925 and I started working at Nonnatus on 11 March 1957". She ended up adopting the same straight backed stance as Trixie. She had never been interviewed – questioned? - by the Police before and although she was only helping it still made her feel as though she was the guilty party.

"Thank you, Nurse" he nodded. "Now we would like to ask you some questions about Angela Roberts". Chummy thought for a moment that it was odd, but then again that was where the body had been found so perhaps not so abnormal.

"We believe you delivered Angela Robert's sixth child?" Constable Porter asked.

"Yes that is quite correct" she replied, deliberately not looking at her husband as she felt so desperately uncomfortable.

"Could you give me that date?" she was asked; a deliberate test of her memory.

Chummy thought for a second. She knew the date down to the moment; it was not so difficult to recall. "22 December 1957. In a horrific blizzard". She remembered it well. Peter did too. She gave him the chill she developed from being out all night.

"And that was the birth of their sixth daughter?"

"Paula" Chummy confirmed. "Yes. She was a fortnight or so early".

She saw a small piece of paper pass from her husband to the other officer. There was a scribbled question, which upside down and in pencil, she could not read.

"We appreciate how long ago it was but do you recall how James Roberts was when he knew it was another girl? A _sixth_ girl". She did not miss the overuse of the number six.

She remembered that clearly too; if only for the snow and the fact that the girls were all out of bed at some ungodly hour of the night.

"Well, he…he was downstairs and I walked into the sitting room as Angela…...Mrs Roberts asked me to get him and I went into the living room and said the baby had been born. The girls were all jumping up and down like mad things and he asked me, well, said 'its another girl, isn't it Nurse?'. I nodded and he got up, walked past me and upstairs. I followed him back up and he sat on the bed next to them both".

"How long did he stay there?" Constable Porter asked as notes were scribbled beside her.

"A few minutes" she replied. "One wasn't clock watching but yes it was only a few minutes. A couple. Three at most".

"Nurse, did you think that strange?"

Peter's voice caused her to jump slightly as he so far had been the silent partner and she had not thought he would or could ask her anything. The thought of leaving her and new born Fred alone, even if his birth had not been as dramatic as it was, for anything more than a few moments was thoroughly abhorrent and his own experience prompted the thought.

"Yes and no" she replied, thinking back. She had seen disinterested fathers with barely an acknowledgement and those ones who just fell in love the moment they heard that child's cry. "He pulled back the blanket to see her face, put it back and asked me if I wanted him to go. I thought he meant so I could clean them up. I just assumed he was so used to being dismissed by the midwife that he knew to ask before he was told to go".

She saw both officers nod their heads.

"Reflecting though" she carried on, "it was like he wanted me to tell him he had to go".

"Like he was asking your permission?" Peter asked.

"Yes" she replied, wondering where the question was taking her.

He continued to press her. "Did you feel, definitively, that he was asking your permission as an excuse to leave?"

"He was distant. Yes and…." she paused. "Yes I think he was"

This time it was Constables Williams and Porter and Jenny noticed Peter seated to one side, his turn at note taking.

"Nurse" Constable Williams started. "Can you, just for the sake of the record, confirm your full name, date of birth and when you first began working here?"

"Jennifer Mary Lee. I was born on 23 May 1935 and I started working at Nonnatus on 24 January 1957"

She had already half heard a conversation between Chummy and Trixie that they were both asked about the Roberts family and knew, she thought, what was coming to her.

"You delivered Charles Roberts?" he asked.

"Yes". A third midwife was unsettled as to the subject of the questions.

"He was a healthy baby as far as you were concerned?"

"Oh yes" she replied. "Perfectly healthy".

"Was there anything particular about the birth itself that alarmed you or stuck in your mind?"

"Not really" she replied. "Obvious Mr Roberts was happy he had his boy at last, but no. It was straightforward and he as good as delivered himself".

"Nurse Lee" Constable Williams said. "I appreciate that you may find this difficult, but as you delivered Charles would like you to come with us to view the body that was found in the drain".

"Why?" she asked, glancing over to Peter. He of all people she knew more than anyone in that room and he saw the almost frightened look on her face. She kept eye contact with him instead as she felt more comfortable.

"Jen" he replied, breaking protocol. "You may know something; be able to help us with something very particular and we need you come to see him tomorrow". They did not explain why as there was the risk she might overthink or start to imagine things that she might convince herself were true.

She bobbed her head and he nodded determinedly back at her and she received the message straight away. Loud and clear. No choice; no matter how polite the request had been. Jenny of all people was potentially the key and she had to do it, come what may.

"Thank you" he replied.

She left to room to find Trixie and Chummy waiting in the kitchen. The look on her face must have told them the whole story.

"Jen?" Trixie questioned. "What on earth's the matter?"

She sat down, feeling the shakes start. "They want me to go and see the body".

"Really?!" Chummy replied, eyes wide, almost choking on her tea. "Did they say why?"

"No", she replied, "but the way they were talking…..they know something". Trixie, faced creased, glanced to Chummy across the table, squeezing her friend's arm.

"Chummy can you ask Peter to come with me? I'd feel better if he was there. I trust him".

"We're not going to be here" Chummy replied quickly. "We're leaving for Kent when he's finished today".

She saw Jenny's shoulders drop as she realised and remembered. "How about David?" Chummy said, thinking that of the four of the officers David Porter perhaps was the other one they had known for quite a while. He was probably Peter's closest friend too.

She nodded her head quickly. "If you could. Yes please".

To their side, Peter appeared, having heard the conversation on his way to fetch himself a glass of water. His tie was pulled from his collar thoroughly ready to go home and change.

"I'm sorry I had to ask you some of those things today" he said arriving at the table. "Have to ask all of you today".

He smiled at Jenny. "I'll ask David. And he will go with you. I'll make sure".


	9. Chapter 9

"What-ho May!" Chummy said merrily, walking from where her son had been entertaining Peter's uncle to the farmhouse kitchen, where she found his aunt. "Have you seen Peter anywhere?"

"I think I saw him heading up the barn", she replied, hands deep in dishwater from their welcome tea.

"Thank you" Chummy responded, setting out down the steps from the back door.

"Take the path though!" May shouted after her. "I've turned many an ankle on that short cut all these years!"

She watched as Chummy walked across the small garden and up towards where, in a five or so minute walk, she would find the decrepit old barn where her husband had spent most of his childhood holidays, jumping up and over hay bales and playing hide and seek. He would be in there; she knew that for sure. Those two precious boys - never blessed herself, not properly, to bring up a child – were as good as she got to seeing children run around the farm, helping plant potatoes when they became strong enough and milking cows. May had never forgotten her sister's telephone call to tell her this one was getting married.

"About bleedin' time" her sister had said on announcing the news. "I'd given up 'ope". May had laughed and felt just as proud as her sister that first time he'd brought her here, then as his fiancée, and they had chatted for hours on end. She daren't tell her sister that the girl had crept across the corridor each night and she had turned a blind eye.

"Peter?" Chummy shouted into the darkness, not seeing anyone anywhere of note as she stepped through the small red door.

"Up here!" came a voice from somewhere in the vast ceiling.

"Where's up here?" she replied, taking in the surroundings, the area half shrouded in very beginnings of dusk.

His head appeared from the hayloft above. "Walk underneath here and there's a ladder at the back". She walked ahead and found the ladder easily, climbing carefully as the wood creaked under her feet.

"You'll have to crawl over", he said as he saw her appear through the hatch. "I nearly cracked my head on the beams". He frowned. "There was plenty of space when I was 6!"

She found him laying back on a bed of straw he had made himself, clambering over to him, more than aware that if she did stand up she would probably decapitate herself. Thankfully the floor felt safe. She sat down, tucking her legs away.

"I used to love it here; away from the smog in London" he said, taking in the surroundings, hands clasped across his stomach. "We must have run for miles around here. It's a wonderful place to bring up a family".

"Come on" he continued seeing the space between where she was sitting and him. "Lie down". Peter held out an arm out to her so she could settle down. He kissed her on the forehead as one arm settled around her shoulders and the other on her hip.

"Just…don't do a thing", he breathed, eyes half closed.

She did just that, trying desperately to relax away all the concerns that she seemed to carry with her all of the time; having looked forward for days to breathing the fresh air of Kent. All of a sudden she felt the uncontrollable need to giggle and failed miserably to suppress the bubble in her chest.

"What are you laughing for?" he asked having felt more than heard the judder of her body.

"Nothing" she whispered quietly, putting her hand to her mouth, feigning a cough to try and distract herself and him from his quest for the source of her amusement.

"Camilla you were laughing" he said.

"I wasn't'" she replied, leaning up and breathing a kiss to his jaw.

"Oh no, you're not getting around me that way" he warned entirely in jest, turning his head away. "Tell!"

Chummy paused, wondering what he might think of her if she confessed what had just shot through her mind. She decided to plunge in. "I was just thinking that this was like something out of one of those appalling novels the gels had at school of virtuous young maidens being ruined by the gardener's boy in a hayloft".

He let out a short laugh. "Well, if mi'lady sees fit to offer I'm sure the hired hand can oblige without much difficulty just this once!"

"Don't talk like that!" she scolded, not intending being disparaging and more concerned that she had insulted him more than the blatant suggestion of a carry-on in said hayloft. She also slapped away the hand that had undone the top two buttons of her blouse before she had even had time to contemplate what he was doing.

"It's quite alright" he replied, voice lazy, leaving the buttons. "Besides it's a bit late for all of that" he quipped. "I don't recall you being maiden or you being all that young for that either".

"And I am lying here with Clark Gable am I? Would that one was!" she retorted. She felt his arms tighten around her and she knew he was smiling even though she could not see.

"Philip and I used to come up here and bury ourselves under the hay. It was lovely and warm" he said, letting the comment hang in the air.

"I am _not_ burrowing under straw thank you Mister!" she replied, thinking perhaps he was serious.

"I never suggested such a thing!" innocence laden in his voice before they settled into a companionable silence.

"I thought I'd lost you before" she said suddenly. "May said you were up here".

"I just needed a have a think" he replied quietly.

"About?" Chummy asked, curious and concerned in the same breath. He shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "Peter, tell me".

"No it's nothing".

"It's not nothing" she replied, knowing something had been agitating him. It had been obvious ever since he had returned home, later than she had expected, from the yard of Saltwell Street that first night.

He sighed. "I just can't shake the image of what we saw down the drain in that yard. Every time I shut my eyes I just see that tiny body…"

"That shows you care" she replied softly. "He's some chap's son, someone's grandchild. Just because he's left this life that way doesn't make it any different. Just because you are a police officer doesn't preclude you from caring"

"I am meant to be impartial; independent" he insisted. "You know I've seen dead bodies before, usually the tramps or drunks we find on the quayside, but never that. I keep thinking about how I would feel if that was Freddie".

That was the crux of what had been niggling at him. Seeing that tiny naked body, festering in the slurry of the drain; mind flashing to new born Freddie and the shaking hands that gave him a bath in the Hospital room as his wife looked wearily on, commentating and heckling him with as much humour as pain would allow her.

"Well it's not him" she replied abruptly, probably sharper than she had ever spoken to anyone in her life before. "Freddie is here so you can cut that out". The thought terrified her too.

He nodded.

"Do you know something?" she continued. "When I was ill, you could have just left me to the care of the girls and the Sisters. You could have just pretended to sleep and ignored him when he was crying during the night, but you didn't. You walked more miles with him around Nonnatus than I did".

"You were sick Camilla" he replied. "I'd have felt guilty if I sat around".

"You had him up, dressed and fed this morning before I'd even realised the sun was up" she continued, having found him with the baby on his knee as they shared a plate of toast, arriving in the kitchen wondering why the house was eerily silent.

"A bomb wouldn't have woken you up this morning. Believe me I was this close" he said, gesturing with his hands, "to just letting him bounce all over the bed and run riot to wake you up!"

She smiled, remembering walking down stairs hearing him babbling on about Mummy being asleep and mithering for a sip of Daddy's tea.

All of a sudden, they both heard the barn door bang downstairs and she frowned up at him, not expecting visitors.

"You pair up there?" his uncle yelled up from his place below them.

"Yes!" Peter shouted back, not wanting to move either of them if possible.

"Well get your backside down here and leave that poor girl in peace! Supper's on the table!"


	10. Chapter 10

"I ache from the top of my head to the tip of my tail" Chummy announced as she stood in the bedroom doorway. Peter was carefully negotiating sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"I don't know" he said, "one afternoon of physical labour and neither of us can move!"

Behind her Chummy heard his uncle walking towards them, clearly having heard either one or both comments. "The times you and your brother used to race around this place from dawn til dusk, on the tractor, milking cows, planting potatoes and I never got one complaint but now one afternoon of digging and you two are a pair of invalids?!"

He stopped beside Chummy who had turned towards him. "Go and have a bath the pair of you!"

Chummy smiled across at her husband, who was leaning, well, attempting to lean down to take off his boots.

"Young Fred's been taken down to see Mrs Bailey, so now's your chance!" he commented as he walked away from them.

"Mrs Bailey?" Chummy whispered, walking into the room to sit carefully next to her husband who had abandoned undoing his bootlaces, instead forcing them off with his toes.

"Aunty May used to, well still must, get her shopping and do her cleaning for her. She lives in that white cottage we passed on the way up here yesterday". There was a sigh of relief from her husband as he kicked the heavy leather of his boots away.

Downstairs they heard the front door go and a vague conversation between Peter's aunt and uncle.

"Toss a coin for the bath?" he suggested.

"No you go first" she replied, now hearing the whining of her son who she could tell was tired. "I'll go and get the baby. He doesn't sound too much of a jovial chap at the moment".

The pair hobbled away, Peter to the bathroom and Chummy downstairs.

Trixie had seen Jenny return from her visit with the Police, silently make herself a cup of Horlicks and retire upstairs with barely a word. She leant on the frame of their shared bedroom door.

"Jen?" she asked. "Are you alright?" She saw her friend carefully fold her cardigan into a drawer, seemingly taking an endless time to ensure it was placed meticulously inside.

"Hmmm?" Jenny replied, closing the oak chest gently, looking up at Trixie who was still standing in the doorway.

"Are you alright? You looked a million miles away".

Jenny laid her hands gently down on the top of the chest of drawers, contemplating, thinking, trying to understand. She didn't look up; still haunted by that body underneath the green surgical sheet, lying cold in that stark mortuary and still unclear, entirely, for her reasons for being there.

"I think that baby is, was, Charlie Roberts" she replied quietly, seeing Trixie walk to her own bed. As she said those words, Trixie sat down with a thump.

"That's impossible!" she exclaimed eyes wide. Jenny turned and sat opposite her.

"When I got there, David just asked me to look at him" she said. "To see if I recognised anything. They told me to tell them if there was anything about him that I recognised" she repeated slowly, remembering the apprehension on the officer's face and the pathologist who peeled away the sheet revealing to her the full horror of what had, only before now, been imagined in couched descriptions from Chummy of what her husband had told her he had seen.

"And?" Trixie asked.

Jenny sighed. "The birthmark on his arm. That baby had a birthmark on his arm. Just inside" she said, gently placing her own fingertips on the inside of her own bicep. "I think Charlie had one too. I think I must have written something in his birth notes and the Police had seen it".

"And they'd seen the body before you too" Trixie concluded quietly, putting two and two together and for once succeeding in calculating four.

Jenny nodded.

"Peter was asking me whether there was anything unusual about my examination. He was trying to push me and I missed it! Damn!" Trixie exclaimed.

"You weren't to know" Jenny replied trying to reassure her, knowing that regardless now it was too late. "He couldn't lead you and I don't know whether I am right or not". She paused again, having churned it over in her mind on the journey back to Nonnatus. "I think I remember seeing something when Charlie was born but I'm starting to think I'm imagining it now too. The more I think, the more I wonder if I'm imagining it".

"What did the Police say when you told them?" Trixie asked, mind torn between her knowledge of Angela Roberts and the absolute shock of these events that were unfolding.

"Nothing" she replied. "I told David and he just said thank you".

"Are her records still here?" Trixie asked, suddenly thinking that there was one way of finding out once and for all.

"I don't know", Jenny replied seeing Trixie frown, neither knowing if the Police had confiscated anything from Nonnatus.

"I don't understand it though" Trixie continued, shaking her head. "He was seen with her. Sister Julienne saw him".

"Yes only _seen_; not picked up, not examined" Jenny responded. "There's your visit when you don't see him and Shelagh said that she didn't attend clinic the day after the body was found. No-one's actually seen him closely since you".

"She might just not have wanted to be seen out" Trixie said quickly, finding an excuse regarding Shelagh's comment. "You know what the gossip can get like around here. Sometimes people round here don't let innocence or accident get in the way!"

Jenny could not help but agree as Trixie moved from her own bed to sit next to her.

"What about Chummy? She could speak to Peter and see", Trixie said suddenly, thinking perhaps he might be less guarded around his wife. She probably knew all kinds of things about it that she had kept her counsel on.

"She's in Kent" Jenny replied.

"I know" Trixie responded," and so is Peter. There's no harm in telephoning her" Trixie said, mind working overtime.

"They are meant to be having a holiday Trixie. Let's see if Sister Julienne will let us see the records first. Her records are the only way and then I'll know and it will save us bothering them", Jenny said, breathing out, straightening her back ready to stand up and walk the short way downstairs.

Jenny and Trixie knocked quietly on the door to the Sister's office.

"Come in" they heard from inside before they crept around the door, both slightly nervous, hoping and praying that perhaps just this time they were wrong.

"Sister?" Jenny asked as they both walked across. "Can we ask you something?"

"Of course" the Sister replied, placing her pen down.

"Charlie Roberts" Jenny started as they both sat down.

"Yes" Sister Julienne interrupted. "I was aware that you had to undertake that awful task today and I am grateful for you assisting the Police".

Jenny nodded, having half-forgotten in their quest to determine their suspicions. "Was there something in his records about a birthmark?" she asked.

Sister Julienne paused.

"Please Sister" Jenny asked, seeing the Sister clearly refraining from saying more. "We promise it will not leave these walls, but we need to know".

"I am afraid I cannot assist Nurse", Sister responded, hands laid gently on top of the letter she was writing. "The Police do not wish there to be any idle gossip regarding what is occurring on our doorsteps for fear of tipping off the perpetrator and whilst I will admit that I am party to their opinions and a considerable amount of evidence, I am under an obligation to keep those views confidential".

She saw the two nurses nod, knowing not to question any further. Sister Julienne's word was law.

"I am sorry" the Sister continued, "but the Police have my word and I will not break it".

Jenny and Trixie stood up to go. "Sister?" Trixie started, turning back, suddenly remembering a long forgotten conversation. "Peter's uncle's farm. Do you remember when Chummy went to visit before they got married?"

"I do" the Sister replied, recalling that slightly anxious feeling of sending her off with him as they took the taxi to the station. She had always liked Constable Noakes and had never seen anything more than the most gentlemanly behaviour around the Nurse, but she would still be alone with him, an unmarried woman, on the long train trip without a chaperone and if something untoward were to occur, it would fall to her door in the absence of any other mother figure in the young woman's life.

"She left the telephone number for us, didn't she?" Trixie asked.

"Yes, I do think she did", Sister Julienne recalled, particularly asking for it from her in her place as the nurses' quasi guardian.

"Do you still have it? She wanted us to keep an eye on the house and I just thought I would telephone her to tell her all was well". It was a half-truth as Chummy had asked and just that afternoon, Trixie had sped past the house and found it was all still in one piece.

"I think so", Sister Julienne replied, searching through the address book on her desk. "There you are", she replied, writing the number down and passing it to her.

Both girls removed themselves quickly from the office and to the telephone.


	11. Chapter 11

His aunt and uncle departed for the pub and Chummy brought an extremely sleepy Fred upstairs, lamenting keenly through tiredness as he wriggled on his mother's knee as she soothed him to sleep. By the time Peter had lifted himself carefully from the bath, she had not moved an inch from where she had lain on their bed and Fred too was spark out in his temporary cot.

As Peter walked across, he placed his palm gently on the boy's chest. The bandage on his chin that protected that cut looked like it needed changing and he would have to remind Camilla. There had also been an attempt having being made at removing what looked like chocolate from around his lips.

"Bet that was Mrs Bailey" he thought, remembering the times he and Philip would go and see her and the look on both his aunt's and mother's faces when they would return with bags of sweets, sticky fingers and a stomach full of Victoria sponge.

"Camilla" he whispered, feeling decidedly better, cleaner and less achy. "Camilla?"

Her eyes flickered open as she vaguely felt him squeeze her arm as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"My bally back is hurting so blasted much!" she whispered, careful the baby did not hear her, as she tried to lever herself up. "One should never have decided to lie down".

Peter laughed quickly as she just about sat up, stretching her legs that had become stiff at the knee. "Do you need a hand?" he said.

"I need a stretcher" she replied dryly. "Can you transport the bath in here and I can just topple these old limbs in?"

"Sorry, Camilla" he responded. "Come on. There's still plenty of hot water. Undress please".

"You are so romantic" she commented sarcastically, leaning forward to make an attempt at the button and zip of her trousers. "To think one day long ago you used to at least take me dancing first before you made any beastly advances".

"I'll remember that!" he replied. Beastly advances indeed.

"One can't even bend forward properly to undo these bothersome trousers!" she commented, forehead creasing in exasperation at the effort and the ache of her shoulders.

Peter tutted and stood up, hands on the waistband.

"Lift".

Tilting her hips she had so little energy she just let him get on with it, losing trousers and tights in one go before he sat down again. She felt the pad of his finger touch the length of the two scars that lay behind her knee.

"Don't be worrying about me Peter", she said, seeing his frown. "All of that is a long time ago".

"I don't understand how a child could not be shown love", he mused "I know I was cracked around the head a few times when I was a kid but Mum and Dad never used a belt on me".

He leant down and kissed the scar. Unmarried, she had only had a passing curiosity about the kind of physical love a husband could provide until it was offered to her and curiosity turned into this strange quandary of want, guilt, want and guilt. Before then, it was starvation of hugs and the kind of affectionate kiss that only a mother would give her child and when he had done something so simple as place his arm around her, or kissed her on the cheek, it had taken such a time to become used to. It was those small gestures that some days she could miss the most rather than all the bells and whistles.

"Peter?"

"Hmm?" he replied, as he untangled her trousers from the tights.

"Do you think I'm too affectionate with the baby?" she asked. It had been troubling her that perhaps she had been going overboard trying to ensure that Freddie would know his mother loved him; never be in any doubt in fact. The last thing she wanted was for him to turn out like her with a mother who she felt she had little link other than in name.

"No!" he replied, stopping his task. "Whatever made you think that?"

"One just has no comparison to know" she replied quietly. Were those kisses and hugs each morning and night normal? Was the need to just brush away that little lock of hair as he slept too much?

"No you are not too affectionate with him", he persisted. "You see the way he runs around after you for cuddles. He knows already he can come to you when he needs you".

She smiled sleepily back at him.

"Now come on you old cripple! I'll help you up and you can go and have a bath". He stood up, hands out to her. She pulled a face.

"Peter, please no, I positively don't think I can make it!"

"Arms!" he said sternly. She held her arms out, deliberately, limply, high in the air so he could grasp her wrists.

"Camilla you are not helping!" he scolded. He pulled her arms and she pulled back. Peter had not expected it and toppled forward, his head just missing a crashing contact with her chin by a hair's breadth.

"Ow" he said quietly after a moment, neck hurting at the sudden movement, as downstairs the telephone rang.

"Go on. You're closer" she said, pushing him gently on the arm knowing they were alone in the house and it was up to one or the other to answer it.

"Only by an inch" he retorted.

"You are still closer".

He had made them both a cup of tea by the time she had finished the call. Picking up the receiver he had not expected Jenny one iota and he had toyed with wandering past every so often to find out what was going on.

"Don't tell me something's happened?" he asked as she arrived through the back kitchen door to the steps where he was seated, tea in hand.

"No, no" she replied. "Not really". She took a seat next to him on the step, carefully lifting the second cup he had brought out. "She wanted to ask if I would ask you if the reason the Police asked her to go today was because the child in the drain had a strawberry birthmark on his arm and that the Roberts baby did too. But I don't expect you to answer". She straightened her skirt and looked out into to the night.

Immediately though, Peter ducked his head and she knew the answer straight away in his the silence of his response. Of the times he would go home to his lodgings and digest what he saw, playing it over in his mind and try to place it in its own box. Now, he had someone to talk to and she would listen to him with fascination and sometimes horror but the most important part as that she would listen and he felt comforted by that. There was, however, nothing until now that brought it so close to home.

She could tell however that he was ruminating on saying something and she was curious, but for his sake she would not be reporting it back to her friends.

"Do you think I'm going to be running around telling the neighbours?" she asked, half thinking she might be intruding, half thinking it was actually none of her need to know.

He looked up at her. "No" he replied quietly, taking a breath. "As far as we can take it that baby in the drain was Charlie Roberts. The birthmark was precisely where Jenny had recorded it in his notes. We were relatively sure just by looking at the medical notes. Same shape, same size. Her going down there was a formality" he confessed. "Sister Julienne knows but she has been asked to keep it confidential".

He saw his wife nod. "I won't say anything to anyone".

"Things may move on while we are here anyway. It may be old news by Tuesday. If Jenny confirmed it, the Inspector was going to speak to Dr Turner about whether he can help us and ask him to carry out a formal examination and assist in the removal of the baby from the Roberts".

"Take him from her?" Chummy asked, shock laced in her voice. As much as she knew that in all real terms all the evidence pointed in the most abhorrent way, the mother must have formed some kind of attachment to that child already.

"Maybe", he paused. "If the examination takes place and Dr Turner can confirm there is no chance that baby is Charlie, then he will go into foster care".

Chummy nodded sadly. "How horrible it all is" she said quietly. "She is the closest thing that baby has to a mother now and he'll be taken".

"But, he doesn't belong to her, Camilla" he replied. "His real mother is dead and he has been stolen".


End file.
